Martyr
by a.lakewood
Summary: Post-Lucifer Rising. "Don't pretend you didn't know it was coming down to this."


Title: Martyr  
Author: alakewood  
Warnings: General spoilers for Season 4, specifically _Lucifer Rising,_ and _Croatoan_.  
Rating: PG-13  
Word Count: 1800  
Summary: Post-_Lucifer Rising_. _"Don't pretend you didn't know it was coming down to this."_  
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

Blinding white light had never been a good thing in Dean's book. Something cataclysmically bad _always_ followed. This time, especially because he knew what had led up to this moment, was no exception. Even if he _hadn't_ known what had caused it this time, the fact that it was accompanied by what felt like an earthquake immediately spiked his 'Danger! Fall back!' meter.

Sam, either awestruck or dumbstruck, wasn't following him, so he had to physically pull Sam out of the church. "Dean," Sam breathed once they'd gotten outside, away from the bright light but the tremors from whatever was happening beneath the convent could still be felt. "We need to-" He started to move back towards the building.

"No, we don't. We need to get the hell out of here."

"But, Dean-"

"No." He made Sam lead him to where Ruby's Mustang was parked nearly two miles away, Sam silent the whole time, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to look at the convent with beams of supernatural light streaming from the windows. "Get in," Dean said, shoving Sam towards the passenger's side.

"Wait." Sam rounded to the open trunk of the car and lifted something out of it that was heavy enough to weigh down the whole back end of the car.

"Sam?" Dean questioned into the darkness.

"Just stay there, Dean." His voice was pitched awkwardly, sounded thick.

Eyes finally adjusted to the darkness away from the over-exposed, over-saturated illumination from what was going on inside of St. Mary's, Dean could make out the faint outline of Sam's shoulders as he walked into the tall grass – and of the body in his arms. He took one step forward. "What did you do?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam sniffed, slowly bending to lay the body on the ground. "It's done." He stalked past Dean, wiping at his eyes with his coat sleeves, and got into the car without another word.

**oxo**

The drive was quiet save for the sound of fat raindrops smattering on the windshield and the _swish-thunk_ of the intermittent wipers. No Metallica or Zeppelin coming through the speakers, no conversation.

They'd been driving aimlessly for countless hours before Dean nudged a sleeping Sam. "We should probably stop for gas soon." He glanced down at the fuel gage where the needle had just entered the red zone above the E.

Sam grunted in response.

After another ten minutes, the low clouds that loomed above the valley beyond the next hill were tinged pink from the street lamps of the small town below.

The single stop light was flashing red and Dean paused at it briefly before rolling on through and down the block to the only gas station. When he pulled up to one of the two pumps outside, it was still so quiet in the car that he could clearly hear the _ding_ of the bell inside as the car went over the signal line in front of the pump. Two slats in the blinds in the window beside the door separated as somebody looked out. Dean slowly climbed from the Mustang, a voice crackling over some unseen speaker, "Prepay only."

Dean sighed and headed in, Sam standing outside the car when he returned. "We should probably crash here, tonight. Guy said there's a motel down the road. 'Sides, we need to talk about this." He shoved his wallet and the receipt into his back pocket and lifted the nozzle from the pump.

"No. I- Not yet."

"Sam, we have to. It's the freaking _Apocalypse_. And it's starting now. And we don't even know what all we're up against. We need to talk to Cas. We need to call Bobby," Dean spoke in a rush, waiting for the click when the tank was full.

The motel was just a couple of blocks down the highway and Sam went into the office, returning with a room key a few minutes later. "It's the far one," he said when he'd climbed back into the car, pointing towards the door at the very end of the building.

**oxo**

Dean awoke, feeling disoriented, not even remembering falling asleep. The first thing he was aware of was a dull throb in his head at his temples that almost felt like a whisper, like a thought. But not his own. He rolled over on the rough motel blanket, the soles of his boots catching in the fabric, and saw Sam sitting up on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped loosely between them as he stared at Dean.

Groggily, Dean tried to sit up, but it required far more effort than it should have. It was dark in the motel room, Sam's eyes even darker but still the same all at once. Sam's eyes, but something not quite right about them that Dean couldn't put his finger on. "Sam?"

"Dean?" Something of a smirk on his face. Like he knew a secret.

Dean didn't know when the change had happened – maybe even before they left Ilchester behind. Maybe he'd been so unwilling to believe what, somewhere deep down inside, he knew with certainty – that he thought if only he didn't believe it, it couldn't possibly be true. But Sam wasn't _Sam_ anymore.

"There it is." The smirk stretched into a grin that looked out of place on Sam's face. Then he was kneeling beside Dean's bed, large palm spanning over Dean's cheek, thumb alongside his nose and fingers curling over his ear.

Dean attempted to swallow around the lump in his throat as fear coiled tightly in his stomach, but he couldn't, mouth suddenly drier than the Mojave at noon. "No," he managed. Still refusing to believe what was right in front of his eyes.

"Don't pretend you didn't know it was coming down to this."

And Dean couldn't do anything. Couldn't even shake his head. "You won't be in him for long. You'll burn through his body and move onto the next-" Dean broke off, words empty and lacking the weight of belief, watching as Sam's head slowly shook in disagreement.

"No. Your brother's body is mine for the long haul. Azazel and Ruby made certain of that." Sam paused – the _thing_ inside Sam paused, and started speaking from stolen memories. "Dad warned you and you didn't listen. You should've killed me when you had the chance."

The vivid image of being locked in the doctor's office with Sam and a .45 filled his mind. He hadn't been able to do it then and he couldn't do it now. "Why? Why Sam?"

"Because he's _chosen_. Special. Uniques in a way that no other mortal man has ever been and never will be. You seriously didn't think I'd simply hand over the legions of Hell to a mere _boy_, did you? _This_ is his destiny. And there's nothing you can do about it."

"There's plenty I can do about it," he ground out, still unable to move.

Sam hummed under his breath. "Oh, but I know that you won't. That you _can't._ You can't kill me – not when I'm wearing your brother's face. And especially not when he's still in here." At the look of barely-masked surprise on Dean's face, he continued. "That's right. Sammy's still here." He touched his temple with the hand not holding Dean's face. "And he's screaming - _begging_ you to kill him."

Dean was shaking. "Why don't you just kill _me?_ Why the hell am I still breathing?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Didn't it ever occur to you that I just want to see you suffer? Seeing your brother like this, knowing what he's _done_ is far worse torture than Alastair could _ever_ have inflicted on you. I won't have to lift a finger or think a single thought. You'll kill _yourself._"

Dean shook his head minutely, letting fragments slowly slide into place until what wasn't being said could fully be understood. "No. _If_ you could kill me," he said, finally sitting up and pushing Sam's hand away, "I'd be dead already." Dean shrugged, standing and looking down at Sam. Knowledge like clarity, like opening heavy drapes in a dark room to illuminate everything. He could breathe easily for the first time since waking. "I will _end_ you."

"You're so _dramatic_, boy," Sam said, standing as well. "This is bigger than you could ever possibly know. It's epic – it's _cosmic_."

"And I'm gonna end it. I started it and I'm the only one that can finish it."

"Did your heavenly boy scouts tell you that? Did they tell you the price that you'd pay? That your _brother_ will pay? Even if you happen to _win?_" Sam paused. "The night you died," he said, changing tactics, "you saw what he was, didn't you? You pierced the veil, say beyond this mortal plane and into the other – saw the visage beneath his face. That's when you knew that you couldn't save him. That you failed your life's one and only mission."

Dean clenched his teeth together so hard his jaw hurt. He wasn't going to give in to this thing.

"In his warped mind, everything he did was for you. To save you. Everything with Ruby. The demon blood. Killing Lilith." He chuckled. "Everything to save you. He wanted to do for you what you couldn't do for him."

Dean's chest heaved as he inhaled a sudden breath. "I _will_ save him. Right after I kill you, I'll save Sam. And every other human life on this planet. If it's the _last_ thing I do."

"Dean Winchester: martyr. If you're so intent on playing the role, I'll string you from a cross."

Dean's jaw twitched once more, then he started for the door. "I'd like to see you try." He strode out of the room and to the car, getting in, slamming the door, and speeding out of the lot. Sam wasn't Sam, no matter how much he didn't want to believe it, he couldn't change that – not yet.

This was the end – the _Battle Royale_. Good versus Evil. Heaven versus Hell. Dean versus Sam possessed by Lucifer himself.

And there was only one possible outcome, only one reality that Dean could acknowledge even existed. He would not kill Sam, no matter what happened to be wearing his skin – he knew that for certain.

He would survive the coming war, Good would prevail, and he'd save Sam once and for all.


End file.
